


The Secret List

by bleulone



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Bitch!Cressida, Body Positivity, Colin Bridgerton likes dancing the salsa, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Globetrotter!Colin, Multi, Peneloise, Rom-com, Slow Burn, Swearing, WorkingGirl!Pen, feelgood fic, it’s about the Yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29159058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleulone/pseuds/bleulone
Summary: PENELOPE FEATHERINGTON HAS ENOUGH. Enough of her mother’s certainty that she’ll never marry and her older sisters’ mockeries. She’s sick of Aaron's texts wanting more than just a fling and tired of this cruel bitch of a co-worker, Cressida Cowper.PENELOPE KNOWS SHE DESERVES BETTER. After all, she is a successful young independent woman, the most brilliant digital PR manager Ton&Co agency has ever known. So, on her 28th birthday, Penelope makes a vow. From now on, she’s going to prioritize herself. And don’t you worry, she can count on her greatest ally : her Secret To Do list, hidden in the pages of a small notebook she's kept for a long time.FROM TELLING PEOPLE what she really thinks of them, going to Paris in order to taste the best chocolate eclair, buying that sexy black dress from Delacroix's famous boutique to doing a road-trip, Penelope is ready to do them all. But the return of a certain 6’ charming globetrotter called Colin Bridgerton in her life, none other than her best friend’s older brother, comes to bedeviled her plans... because Love definitely wasn't part of them.IN WHICH CROSSING the dangerous limits of friendship never sounded so tempting.[MONTHLY UPDATES]
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Comments: 22
Kudos: 117





	1. Touché Coulé

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Polin as leads in a modern rom-com because why not :))  
>   
> English being my second language, I apologize in advance for the mistakes you’ll most likely stumble upon.  
>   
> Without further ado, enjoy :)

**  
**

**WHEN IT CAME TO TAKING** **EMOTIONAL PUNCHES** , Penelope Featherington knew a thing or two. Or, well maybe a dozen— nay a hundred—she could easily gather alphabetically and develop in a heavy encyclopedia she’ll originally entitle “ _Penelope’ series of Unfortunate Events_ ”. Frankly, her existence wasn’t a dictionary-like diary nor an adult rewriting of Lemony Snicket’s fantastic novels (novels she’s literally eaten when they came out) despite having enough juicy content to write more than thirteen books. The mere idea of imagining herself with an old quill pen in her right hand did something to her. Something pleasantly cathartic. 

Though she got to admit that the way she built up this traditional over-the-top image in her head didn’t quite fit the digital era she currently lived in. And on a more serious note, who would ever want to carry an inkwell around in a fancy mustard Bimba y Lola handbag when it most likely to open itself and stain everything by a simple elbow bump on the bus. It would be an absolute disaster seeing her agenda, her beige purse, her keys, her makeup bag, her vintage copy of _Mathilda_ by S.R. Fielding, her wireless earbuds, her portion pack of delicious milk chocolate digestives McVitie’s and her Always maxi pads colored royal blue because of her occasional clumsiness. Therefore, she crossed this option out of her mind. 

While spending more time glued to her phone or computer presented itself as an activity she resolutely refused to take into account considering the connected aspect of her profession, the young woman ended up valuing pens and papers over screens. They sounded way cooler and healthier and made the wonderful act of writing raw and relaxing. No more toxic blue light to sore her crystal blue eyes or repetitive tendonitis in the fingers. Thus, it was to this extent that Penelope Featherington wisely opted for a notebook. 

But hold on, not any type of notebook obviously. A handy A5 black hard covered one with featherweight plain paper and the little pen holder on the side. Whoever came up with this amazing idea was a genius because the young woman was perfectly aware of her remarkable talent at not keeping one single pen for more than a week in her bag on average. Last but not least, another characteristic of this beloved notebook : it had more than 360 pages. The importance of the length went in line with a logic she came to agree with : the longer the better. And don’t you dare say she would have made do with a simple 150 pages notebook, you’ll offend her. 

Just so you know, no one would want to cross the woman. Because if there was one thing Penelope Featherington hated the most, it was the people who blindly jumped into conclusions, judging an individual as if he or she was an open book which they didn’t even bother to read nor give a look to its back cover. They looked down at the damaged paperbacks placed on the lowest shelves and ignored those invisible gems, glinting in the dark thanks to the interesting stories they held, sometimes even more gripping than their proud cousins from above. All books deserved the same amount of love and attention, no matter where they’re ranked. No matter how they look. 

Anyway, moral of the story, don’t let yourself be fooled by the superficial ugliness of things when they end up possessing the most compelling shades. And if you don’t believe Penelope on this matter, then go ask Mister Benedict Bridgerton himself, London’s latest famous painter. You’ll see, his words are certainly not unfounded, not when he had the privilege to have the internationally known artist Henry Granville as his mentor in art school. A wise and talented man indeed. 

So yes, Penelope had many things to tell.

But now it got her thinking : what the hell could a young woman like her be possibly writing about herself ? In any case, she had to come up with something rather interesting in order to captivate her readership. 

The first thing she could think of was the peculiar history of her terrible, horrible, no good, very bad look. Penelope remembered the odd bond formed between her mother, Portia, and Fashion, a bond stronger than the one she once had shared with her late gambler of a husband. They understood, completed each other and the limits of eccentricity were pushed oh so far away.

A blessing for this middle aged woman. A nightmare for the young girl. 

By virtue of her career change to psychologist and marrying Sam Llyod, a rich moustachioed dandy lawyer, Portia succeeded in keeping her family thriving notwithstanding Hurbert's debts. It encouraged her even more to spend a large sum of money on ridiculous outmoded inspired 80’s clothes for herself and her daughters.

Influenced by her (unsuccessful) dressmaking studies as well as the various icons who marked her youth like Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Prince, David Bowie, Portia loved the way those celebrities’ effect on people. She enjoyed greatly the way they captured everybody’s attention when they walked into a room just by wearing stylish items of clothing out of the ordinary.

So much she wanted to become like them. And Portia did. 

Thus, after giving birth to her three lovely daughters, Prudence, Philippa and Penelope, the mother’s main priority was to pass on the vibrant colorful beauty of her generation. She deeply hoped to see one of her girls pursuing the unfinished business she had started a two decades ago. If Phillipa dedicated herself into marketing studies and surely secured her place in the flourishing double Gloucester’s family business of her boyfriend, Alby Finch, Prudence appeared to be the one on the right track. Attending the best fashion school in London tended to do that, giving her the opportunity to be invited to the greatest fashion events from all around the world. Of course, Portia naturally followed her everywhere, leaving Penelope and her wish to become a digital public relation manager inscathed. 

Even though Portia had soothed the painful wounds left by a past unhappy marriage through the world of fashion, it didn’t justify her being the main source of her youngest daughter’s unhappiness toward her own physical appearance. Maybe Penelope’s love/hate relationship with clothes came from here, seeing her elder sisters consistently getting the crème de la crème of garments. She looked like a rotten lemon with the amount of puffed yellow shirts, pants and dresses she wore as a kid, when all she wanted was to wear loose red, purple, pink and black jumpers. 

Somehow after her sixteen’s birthday, the signs of the divorce between her mother and her obsessive need to control her free will began to appear. And it was, in all honesty, marvelous. As far back as she could remember, Penelope didn’t live a day where her mother wouldn’t criticize her taste in fashion when she came back from shopping at the mall with Eloise Bridgerton. Fortunately, Portia played all her cards, meaning that nothing could stand between the girl and her way to freedom.

Portia needed to cut the chains to let her beloved baby fly. And she did. 

When Penelope finally turned eighteen and successfully graduated from secondary school with 93 rank points for her A-levels, the young adult took the decision to leave the nest in order to enjoy and savor this wonderful thing called independence. Just like Prudence and Philippa did before her (though they left at twenty-two and twenty-three). 

The first thing the young Featherington did to mark this magnificent occasion was cutting and dying her hair blond. She utterly disliked her thatched of curly red hair. It made her look like a dreadful witch straight out from the fairytales she read as a child. By progressively adopting a casual and professional look, Penelope felt better. 

Oh, how she loved the perks of freedom living alone in her apartment. 

Sadly, not the most cherished thing always smelled like roses. Some sides independence let her down. It hid a diversity of unexpected surprises, a bouquet of illusions, of difficulties needing to be overcame. For instance, she realized she had to regularly run errands, cook, do household chores, put a load on... Although she hated to concede it, Penelope missed the old days when her mother and Petunia Varley, their housekeeper, took care of everything. But childhood was over.

What scared her the most in growing up was the fact that she had to socialize and face people’s gaze. Thrown into the world without any real knowledge of the other, the young girl felt insecure, stuck in the sharped claws of Ignorance. To counter its perversity, Eloise advised her to go out and meet other people at parties. But Penelope always ended up in a corner of a room, awkwardly checking the hour on her phone, with loneliness as a dearest friend. She got used to be less invisible but invisible still. The problem was her best friend and her lack of understanding about what it was like to be in her shoes. Unlike her, she didn't grow up with cool and funny four brothers and three sisters and a sweet loving mother. She wasn't born with the innate gift to talk and attract people. No, Penelope unfortunately didn't have any of that.

The only good thing uni parties pushed her to do, besides listening to people and observing their body language, was improving her makeup skills and dressing better, despite her inner conviction she’ll never be beautiful. She may be cute and pretty, hell even hot to some, but never really beautiful to one single soul. Penelope embraced this idea and no one was here to tell her the contrary. Nevertheless, this conviction of her didn’t prevent her from taking care of herself at all. She knew how to be coquette and ought to be, particularily in the workplace. 

Penelope was perfectly aware that now wasn’t the time to meditate on such personal topics, especially at Ton & Co's head quarters where she was supposed to stay professional. A bunch of research on her latest assigned company had to be done today. But when Penelope stepped in her office this morning and sat on her very comfy desk chair, she noticed something different.

The blond haired had a good memory. Yesterday, there definitely wasn’t a dark pink post-it stuck to her large computer screen where _TOMORROW IS YOUR TIME TO SHINE PENNY !!! :)))_ was written in big capital letters. She immediately recognized Mal’s rounded handwriting. Malika Kabir, twenty-six, specialized in creating storytelling, was one of the rarest employees she viewed as a real friend. Her sassiness and fiery personality made her laugh, chiefly when she swore in Moroccan Arabic. It was really sweet from her part to remind her how much of a human she was first before transforming herself into a professional workaholic. 

At first, the young Featherington smiled at the sight of those kind words, flattered by this tender misunderstanding. There was no way her birthday fell on tomorrow, today was— was April 7th ! 

Shit! 

Penelope had totally forgotten. How could she ?

She had been, indeed, very busy with her many clients' communication plans lately, but not to the point of almost forgetting her own birthday, almost forgetting herself.

For God sake, how ludicrous!

Ms. Danbury, Ton & Co’s vice-director, even called her last night to congratulate her for her remarkable work on BroCodes’s digital campaign before adding that she deserved to begin later than usual on Friday. If this wasn't an easy clue to notice ! Though with Ms. Charlotte Almaida Santos, the agency’s founder, knocking on the glass door of her office last Thursday, stressed the hell out of Penelope. Rare were the occasion when the intimidating woman personally tasked one of her employee to urgently deal with a particular client in need of Ton & Co's great services. In her case, it was Varenco’s, a German jewelry company which desperatly seeked help in communicating through social media. The digital PR manager's main goal was to create an exceptional social media strategy, making the brand attrative to the mainstream public.

You'll understand that the pressure wasn't comparable to the many one she had felt before. She could do it, like she perfectly did well with the Hastings Wines last year.

Penelope could do it. She was sure of it.

Freidrich Weber, Varenko’s CEO, a rather good looking blond fella, came to the agency on Monday with Ms. Santos to elucidate his wishes to Penelope. Since the moment he step his shiny Italian designer's shoes, rumors went around in the office, questioning what kind of relationship could this guy be possibly sharing the founder of the agency. If there was one person responsible for this major leaked piece of information, it was Brimsley, a plump fifty something guy also known as Ton & Co’s biggest gossip. Sometimes, Penelope wondered how the hell this unreliable man could be her secretary when his ability to talk overcame the one of shutting his mouth up. During their coffee break, Malika told her she usually shamelessly flirted with the man a couple of times just to let her ears be entertained with the latest gossip. And she got it after two or three compliments : apparently, Freidrich Weber was somehow related to Ms. Charlotte Santos which would explain why she personally had taken the matter in her own hands.

What do you want, Malika just wanna have fun. She was a simple woman who loved playing with hypocrisy.

Hypocrisy, or a universally well-spoken language at Ton & Co, though only greatly mastered by two powerful women : Ms. Charlotte Almeida Santos and Ms. Danbury. And for that reason, Penelope admired them even more. Hence the reason why the young Featherington tried all her best to work hard on the digital campaign in the hope to be like them.

Strong, flawless and committed.

* * *

**6:30 PM.**

Back in her apartment after one hour squashed in public transport, Penelope was greeted by a very happy Guizmo, her two-year-old poodle. If there’s one thing she’ll never cease to like is him and his priceless adorable demonstrations of affection. She wanted to answers his demands, but first she had more important priorities at this exact moment. She started off by quickly getting rid of boots and her bra, tossing it somewhere on her couch.

Penelope’s appartement wasn’t that big. A nice 57 square meters one to be precise, located in the outskirt of London. And so far, she loved living on the 6th floor, the last of her building. Plus, no neighboor occupyied the flat under her. No one to bother hers. No one to be bothered by her dancing and singing off-key Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff in all her glory. 

As a habit of hers, after showering and changing into her pajamas, the blond haired opened Instagram while eating dinner in her living room. If you're that curious to know what was on the menu, Penelope was afraid to dissapoint you. She merely drank the leftover from yesterday, a delicious italian garlic soup, (she had to thank youtube’s algorithm for this one). 

Her timeline was filled with memes and pictures and videos of the few companies she had helped in the past. After scrolling for a while, she double tapped on Malika’s last post, being all cute in Hyde Park with her new pastel purple hijab. She also stumbled upon Eloise and her girlfriend Deb on her motorbike inspired by the iconic one Marlon Brando rode in 1953’s _The Wild One_. Her rocker outfit couldn’t be more fitting. The young Bridgerton was definitely a wild spirit. Seriously she rocked in her black oversized leather jacket. Her and Deb formed such a lovely couple ever since their first meeting back in gender study classes three years ago at Oxford. Their love never ceased to grow day by day. Penelope truly admired them for this wonderful bond uniting them and wished the couple nothing but a life of happiness. Hopefully, Eloise will finally resolve herself to propose. Penelope picked up on a few clues such as occasional unsual questions about where her mom’s bought this stunning set of jewels. Which reminded the young Featherington to call her step-father asap. Only a good lover like Sam knew the best addresses in town. 

A few likes later, Penelope thought she would choke on her mouthful of soup. 

@Col_Bridgerton did it again. And this time, it wasn’t a breathtaking landscape, a delicious traditional meal or a rare animal. The professional globetrotrer posted a picture of him sitting in a restaurant's terrace, wearing a white sleeveless shirt and bringing to his lips a spoon full of what seemed to be ropa vieja with the following caption : “Spicing up things in Havana''. As usual, a whole paragraph describing the meal he was currently eating and its interesting background, making her mouth water in the process. But how could she focus on his words when the image above was oh so distracting and pleasing to look at. How could the mere bloody sight of his bare sun-kissed muscular arms still have an effect on her, after all these months ? How dare he hold this spoon _that_ way between his lips with his eyelids closed, concentrated on the food's exotic taste—and holy shit was that a beard ?

Penelope’s heart beat fast. Whitout even thinking, she clicked on his icon and watched his latest story. It was night time in a lightened red bar. And a sweaty Colin swayed to the sensual rythm of a Cuban salsa song playing in the background, a few curls from his light brown hair falling elegantly on his forehead.

No, she couldn't handle it, it was too much.

Penelope had been on that road before and quickly found herself stuck in the traffic of impure thoughts about how those broad shoulders would feel under her hands or how this beautifully luscious mouth of his would set every inch of her skin on fire. But she couldn’t afford to go on that road again, especially after what happened that night. The night of Benedict and Sophia’s wedding. 

The blond took a deep breath. And resisted to those tempting images forcing the wooden barriers of her imagination.

She would have gladly called Aaron for a late night sex session to forget this incident if he wasn’t bringing up all day long his stupid talk about committement. Yet he apparently forgot the limits they both agreed to not cross. 

Emotional attachments. 

Love. A big word she grew to dislike over the years.

Penelope knew she'd never be loved the same way she loves someone. The young woman fell in love one time and it was excruciatingly painful. Thus, she removed It from her priorities. Easy. According to her, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if she decided to accept Aaron's advances before realizing that, all this time, he merely wanted to hit that bass on a regular basis. She didn't want to be hurt a second time, that was all Penelope desired. It saddened the young woman to see him catching feeling because the reason why she liked him in the first place, apart from being tall, dark and handsome of course, was the fact that didn’t care being in a serious relationship. She'll find a solution. If not, she'll have no choice left but to break up with him. Easy.

So yeah, Penelope had casual sex, and so far, this was good. She felt good and found her groove. Her former partners proved themselves to be quite skilled under the sheets, but something was missing. They never seemed to succeed in satisfying her entirely. She longed for the supposed butterflies in the stomach, the goosebumps, the yearning, the heat, the real heat... One day she'll feel those things and she'd be having them with someone worthy of her love.

One day.

Yes, in spite of her periodically pessimism, Penelope Featherington had fantasies of her own, and no, don't bother asking, she won’t dare to say more words on those forbidden thoughts. It was a dangerous territory she couldn’t venturing in. Even if the temptation was too strong.

Ugh, bloody hormones ! The blond haired silently cursed before letting herself fall on the soft brown cushion of her sofa. She closed her eyes and sighed, bringing her right hand to the floor so that she could stroke Guizmo’s soft gold and grey curls then said : 

“You’re so lucky Guiz. At least you don’t have to worry about finding the perfect match, acting like the nice perfect daughter around your family, paying bills and basically being a selfless human dedicating your life to work for a capitalistic system that hungrily feeds on your efforts''. Guizmo raised his head up, giving her a brisk bark as a response. Penelope nodded, as if she understood what he just said. Either a kind lippy “Yup I know” or “I’m sorry, I love you” she assumed. 

Truth is, Penelope Featherington was tired and angry. Angry at the big challenge that represented Varenko, at Cressida Cowper's jealousy toward her getting this case instead of her, at her workaholism, at Aaron's immaturity, at Colin's handsome face... at herself.

Her blue eyes drifted from her TV—she had forgotten that she was watching an episode form the Office—where an eager Stanley talked about his love for Pretzel Day, to meet her mustard handbag. They stayed there immobile, for a while. As if she were gifted with an X-ray vision, she could see through the thick material of her bag. 

She spotted it. Her black notebook. The black Notebook. The one that held every secret and desire. It seemed to be calling upon her. 

Hypnotized, Penelope got up, unzipped her bag to take it and opened it, consumed by the temptation to read those pages once again. 

The Secret To Do list was a special segment in her notebook where she jotted down her most inspiring and intimate inner thoughts. Right now, she wanted to do something with it. All those past months, she took it out of her bag in order to write wishes which would never happened, but why did she think that way. Didn't she deserve as well the luxury to have dreams and make actually make them happen ?

If life was a movie and Penelope the actress as well as the screenwriter, why was she stuck in a boring cheesy tv film. She ought to be the protagonist, a true badass heroine of a major movie franchise right ? If she was blessed with the power to act since her birth, then why the hell wait ? Penelope will turn twenty-eight tomorrow. Then twenty-nine next year then thirty the other.

So far had she treated herself ? No.

Had she really lived it up ? No.

Penelope didn’t want to be fully erased from her own portrait to meet an abstract ocean of nothingness. Looking back, there were three major things which formed the pattern of her daily life : mockery, work, her excess of kindness. She needed to change for the better and live for herself.

No more wounds, no more scars, tomorrow is gonna be another day. Because tomorrow will see the birth of her new self. Call it bold or egotistical of her to do this, but now had come the time for Penelope to be born twice. She may have come to the world twenty-seven years ago, but the world is yet to come to her. 

At last.

* * *

**NEVERTHELESS, THE WORLD STILL HADN’T PLANNED** on offering her the luxury of having a lie in, not even on her birthday, April 8th. But Penelope shouldn't complain. She had to count herself lucky to be working in the field communication, a field which allowed her to start two days a week at 10am and finish at 6pm instead of her usual 8:30am/4:30am hours. Friday happened to be one of them. 

Her six years of experience and her two Employee of the Year’s trophies gave her the possibility to enjoy this advantage. Consider them the harvest of her hard work. 

However, it didn’t mean the workload lightened. So, when her phone rang before her alarm this morning, Penelope groaned and groaned again. If it wasn’t her phone waking her up this early, it was those freaking pigeons. What did they even decide to choose her small balcony as their spot anyway? Ugh, London pigeons are the worst and so was this month of April. She cursed the unlucky star which put her in such an annoying condition. 

Emergency calls from work always happened. No need to look closely at her contract, she signed up for that after all.

Despite her cruel need to kill someone on this beautiful sunny day, she muffled her scream in her pink flowery pillow before answering the phone, without even taking the time seeing the name displayed on her screen. Her bets were on Miss Danbury and her unfinished SWOT of Varenko’s company. 

Penelope was ready to throw a hypocritical “Hello ?” realized her mistake when a loud familiar femnine raspy voice she knew oh too well shouted, almost to the extreme point of deafening her. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH !” 

Oh, Eloise.

**CHECK _THE SECRET LIST_ 'S OFFICIAL PLAYLISTS ON SPOTIFY - LINKS IN THE NOTES BELOW.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So she just gonna bring her a birthday gift on her birthday to her birthday party on her birthday with a birthday gift—?  
> and I’m like, pen sweetie, don’t worry, my boy colin is on his way to prove you wrong lol. 
> 
> Okay, this is my first fic ever in the Bridgerton fandom. I read all eight books about a year ago and fell madly in love with the characters, especially Penelope and Colin. I’m both anxious and excited to share what I have in store with you guys.  
>   
> All comments, thoughts/impressions/expectations are more than welcomed. They are a huge source of motivation for me, like all fanfic writers. 
> 
> You’ll find more visual content on my tumblr, I’m [@bleulone](https://bleulone.tumblr.com/). You can also listen to The Secret List’s [official soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7knj9gfVkTg5zoyDy4CFti?si=NQnLYGX-QsKGxtfyYbM0rQ/) as well as[ Penelope’s](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2EVWhK8X4ReBfJVEhRlNmF?si=6awAyiJvSXqfdp7C3STgJQ/) and [Colin’s playlists](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4L8ckfeBk4qkC9GnuAV7SI?si=Rc2b-zN8QwKLBUZyie3ghg/) I made on Spotify :)) 
> 
> Until next time,  
> xoxo, bleulone.


	2. Surprise Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Penelope’s 28th birthday, an occasion for Eloise Bridgerton to invite her best friend over at Aubrey Hall to spend an unforgettable week-end. But a familiar guest shows up to the family gathering earlier than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this, left kudos and comment, corrected my mistakes and even subscribed to this fic ! I didn't think even 100 people would read this, much less like it. Knowing there were people waiting for the story to continue gave me a lot of motivation to finish this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy !

**“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUU”** Eloise joyfully sang on the other side of the line, pretending to be some sort of talented pop song artist or something. Not that she wasn’t talented at all—she joined the drama club and performed dozens of musicals back in primary and secondary school—but her take on the song was deliberately forced, parodic, for humorous purposes. Though this morning, Penelope detected an unusual soreness in the raspiness of her voice. She immediately identified its potential origin : hours of teaching with a broken mic in front of hundreds of students. It had been more than two days since the mics of the Dickens lecture theatre at London’s College preyed on a serious breakdown and there was no possibility to teach in another lecture hall because all of them were already booked for other courses. Quite odd for a successful college of its caliber. They had to do something quick, otherwise, she might lose her voice for good, something that the Featherington will never allow. 

When this wonderful performance of hers came to an end, the Bridgerton continued to speak on a more calm and tender note.

“I wish you all the best for your twenty-eight candles love, I’m so grateful to have you in my life and hope that this new age will be filled with happiness, success and love”. Hearing these words almost made Penelope both cry and laugh in the moment. Eloise had been someone who accompanied her practically all her life. She brightened up her days with joy and good spirits when she needed it the most, during her best and her worst. 

This wasn’t just a friendship. The brunette wasn’t just her best friend. Eloise Bridgerton was a true sister at heart, the one Penelope always dreamed to have. 

“I’m so sorry for not being here with you, but work hasn’t been very kind to me these days. I think my wrist needs rehabilitation of its own, between correcting a mountain of essays and making progress in my thesis oof” Eloise complained, listless.

Penelope abruptly raised herself from the bed “Oh Shit El! Good luck !”

“Yeah it sucks but anywho ! How does it feel to be twenty-eight on this lovely morning ?” 

“Well I’m just the same twenty-seven me but 365 days older” She sighed, falling back on the comfy innerspring mattress. 

Eloise groaned “Ugh, stop throwing me the same answer every year, it’s annoying”. 

“Then stop asking me the same question every year” The blond sharply replied. A silence followed and they both exploded with laughter. Penelope loved these silly sarcastic exchanges between them. It reminded her that their childhood was still there, alive and thriving beneath the many layers of supposed maturity they’d come to build over the years. But even the strongest shield of adulthood was breakable, a weakness childhood smartly and cheerfully exploited.

“No seriously, El, I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it—“ Penelope didn’t find the right words to finish her sentence. She was actually still processing her forgetfulness with utter shock.

“Penelope, if this is your way of telling me that you’ve forgotten your own birthday, I’m going to find you, and literally going to slap you. You need to stop overworking, trust me or you too risk falling downhill. I don’t want to see you harming yourself to the point of suffering from a burn out and taking Xanax everyday” Eloise sermonised in a maternal tone. The teacher in the making spoke from experience, alluding to Deb who recently overcame this difficult phase. Nevertheless, Penelope wanted to appear reassuring.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just that this week has been a little rough with the new communication strategy I’m working on. But hey, I’ll survive, I always do” she said while rubbing her eye lids, although doubt colored her hopeful words.

“I sure hope you will... Do you have any plans for the weekend ?” Eloise curiously asked her friend. It took three seconds for the small blond to realize that no, she didn’t. Usually she would have but no, not this time, not this year.

“Well with mom and Sam chilling on an idyllic beach thousand miles away from London, I don’t think they’ll make it to our annual birthday dinner at The Ritz or La Dame de Pic” the blond sadly confessed. A part of her was relieved though. She wouldn't have to endure her mother's rebukes concerning her chaotic love life, even if she liked making the conversation with Sam. 

Eloise exclaimed. “Portia and Sam are still in the Seychelles ? Hasn't it been like a month since their departure ?”

“What can I say, Andrew loves taking his time to show her the world” 

“Then what about—hold on” the brunette coughed several times. “Sorry, what about Prudence and Phillipa ?” 

“Phillipa’s busy preparing herself for The Great British Cheese Festival with Alby and Prudence’s out in Paris visiting Chanel’s new flagship—I can surely expect at least a little text from their part today though” Penelope explained passively. It was either a late birthday wishes text or, if she was lucky, a real present sent to her address. 

“Oh I’m sorry…" _No, don't be_ , Penelope silently replied. Pity was the least thing she wanted to hear or feel today. Her and her family weren't as close anyway. "Well come over to Aubrey Hall this week-end ! It's out of the question that you stay alone the very first days of your twenty eight candles. We ought to celebrate your birthday as it should be”. Eloise cheerfully proposed.

Penelope didn't react at first, taken aback by the invitation. Thrilled yet unsure, she let out a timid “Seriously ?”.

“Of course, we didn’t have the chance to do that last year with the renovation work, so it’s the perfect timing to mark the occasion" The Bridgerton explained. "Don't forget to bring Guizmo with you, I’m sure he and Newton missed each other’s company !”

“Kate’s gonna be here ?” Penelope asked, surprised. If she was, it'll be amazing. They could eventually continue their interesting debate about veracity and falsehood on social medias.

Eloise gave her a firm confirmation. “Yeah, so are Anthony, Daph, Simon, Ben, Sophia, Greg, Fran, Hyacinth and the kids… you know, pretty much everyone, why ?”

“No, nothing—cool” Penelope fibbed. Being a close friend of the Bridgertons was one thing, spending a whole weekend with them was another though. It always came to be quite intimidating, as much as she grew up with them. “No, it’s nothing, it’s just that—you're sure I won’t be bothering you all ? I really don’t want to intrude—”.

“Penelope, we’ve already talked about this, how many times do I have to tell you that you are practically a member of the family now ?” Eloise cut her in a very reassuring tone. It was enough to convince Penelope to say yes, mostly because she loved their company.

“Sure, why not. I guess breathing Reading’s clean air wouldn’t cause me no harm right”. Penelope resolutely agreed.

“That’s my girl ! Oh, also bring your bikini, just in case, it’s gonna be one hell of an occasion to spend all day in the pool and the jacuzzi ! Mom renovated the house and planted a bunch of apple trees and all kinds of flowers. You won't believe Aubrey Hall's glow up” Eloise's excitement was contagious. Now Penelope died to know what the estate looked like now.

“Don’t worry El, I’ll make sure to bring it. But in exchange, promise me you’ll drink a small glass of lemon juice with a tablespoon of honey and a teaspoon of cinnamon right before you go to sleep tonight, you gotta take care of this wonderful voice of yours—not to mention that I desperately need it tomorrow if we are to talk all day” The Featherington soflty declared.

“How thoughtful of you—sometimes, I tend to believe that showing them my powerpoint full of analysis would be enough. They’ll just add more notes to the partition of computers’ keyboard sounds I'm bound to listen. They don't really give a damn about anything I’m saying. And it tears me apart, like, that’s Laura Mulvey and Nella Larsen I’m talking about, the good shit you know ?!” Eloise spit, on the verge of loosing her temper, rightly so. It was her first year of teaching.

Penelope tried to comfort her best friend. "You've just begun, give yourself a bit of time to adapt and receive feedback".

“That's what I'm telling myself everyday. Anyway I don’t wanna impose on your precious time, see you tomorrow then! Have a lovely day!”.

“You know you don't El. Thank you so much for the call, it really means a lot. Can’t wait for tomorrow ! Byeeee”

“Byeeee”.

After hanging up her phone, Penelope checked the vintage clock on the wall. 8:15AM. She still got less than an hour ahead of her before leaving to go to work. So she took advantage of this opportunity to stay in her bed, travelling from her inbox full of messages wishing her a happy birthday and gift cards to spend before the end of the month. In the end, Penelope forced herself to leave her beloved bed to change and eat her breakfast which consisted in a croissant, a golden delicious and a good hot chocolate. She hadn’t been much of a fan of coffee lately. Mal and her agreed on reducing their daily dose of coffee in order to replace it with healthier drinks such as tea and tisane... or a hot chocolate if they felt gourmand.

Thanks to her exceptional hours, Penelope escaped the rush hours and got the chance to find a seat by the window. A veritable rarity on a Friday morning. The bus dived into the busy streets of London, stopping at various stops, Bayswater Road, Marble Arch Station, Selfridges, New Bond Street and Oxford Circus... Instead of reading _Matilda_ this time, Penelope rested her forehead on the window and contemplated the ones who brought life to the streets, perhaps too much.

People.

It was one of the many aspects she developed a love/hate relationship with since she became independent. Yes, she loved the movement, however, the city was too lively, so much it became a bit overwhelming at times.

She got off at Conduit Street Hamleys Toy Store and walked toward the imposing vitreous building. Ton&Co's headquarters. Penelope passed her card at the access control speed gate and she spotted Malika in the hallway next to the coffee machine. Today she wore an amazing emerald green hijab which perfectly matched her large loose pants, contrasting with her white shirt. This volcanic ensemble had to come from Delacroix's boutique, it was obvious considering the high quality of the fabric. The assortment of colors was on point. 

Mal appeared to be in a deep conversation with Tim Nguyen, the cute administrative assistant. She was surely trying to sort out the Adobe Creative license issue for the new intern. The man acquiesced with a nod and walked away past Cressida Cowper's office. Even from the distance, she could see her venimous green eyes sending her a death glare.

“Salam to you birthday girl !” Malika greeted her, looking all radiant with joy.

“Mal, please, don't remind me that I'm getting old" Penelope begged. It was difficult for her to accept the fact that her twenties were soon coming to an end.

Mal made a face. She liked jumping on every occasion to tease her favorite co-worker. “You absolutely don't ! You look like you're in your early twenties. Mind sharing your genes please ?”

“You already know the deal Mal, we all have them. The secret is that it’s all about connecting with your true self hidden deep inside” Penelope declared on a very calm and collected tone, playing the yoga teacher for a bit, though her knowledge in this field was very limited, even though she promised herself to do some exerciced according to the second dash of To Do list.

“That’s what he said” the hijabi muttured and they quietly chuckled. One thing they loved doing was making a lot The Office's inside jokes in the many discussions they share. Sometimes they would even look at a non-existent camera like Jim occasionally would do… At the risk of acting weird around people. But it was okay, they’ll get over it one day.

“Nevermind, email me your skincare routine, I've been waiting for this for days” Mal requiered as they walked to her office. Penelope suspected that something had to do with her birthday.

"Speaking of which, I have something for you". Mal took from a large bag a red gift wrapped package at the bottom of her coat rake which led Penelope to have that smile on her face. She really didn't have to but how could she refused her present when she looked all content. She opened the package and her jaw dropped. It was a traditional silver Moroccan teapot. "Oh my God Mal, you didn't have to !".

"Hush you, thank me instead" she demanded. To what Penelope hugged and thanked dearly her colleague. "Next time you invite me to your house, you better make the traditional mint tea like I taught you to" she warned her as she checked her Casio watch. Her eyes widened. "Shit, you didn't forget your meeting with the boss at 10:15 did you ?"

"Fuck, I have only five minute left" Penelope cursed. She blew Mal a kiss and ran to her office, dropping off Mal’s gift next to the six bags sitting on her desk. She grabbed her pink notebook, a blue pen and briskly walked to Ms Danbury's office. Through the glass, she could only see the back of her grey marked peplum suit. Penelope knocked on the door and the dark skinned woman turned to face her, inviting her to come in, in the middle of her telephone conversation. 

“...of course Gareth, okay—Laters!”. She hung up and delicately put her cane next to her minimalistic library. She sat on her leathered black chair and encouraged Penelope to sit in front of her, her stern gaze, piercing the young PR manager’s soul. 

“Miss Featherington, good morning" she greeted her with a wide smile.

“Good Morning” Penelope said, doing everything in her power to not appear stressed nor intimidated. 

"You must know the reason of our meeting” she quietly implied as she ajusted her golden name desk plate, removing any traces of dust. 

Penelope couldn't think of many reasons. There was an obvious one “About Varenko I believe”.

“Yes... among other things” the woman confirmed, tapping her long fingertips on her glass desk. “How’s Miss Sharma’s first month in the company ?” she asked with rapt attention. Penelope didn’t expect this question at all. 

“Oh, Edwina’s doing very good so far, she’s a great asset to our team. Her knowledge of pop culture can be seen as a great use when it comes to creating content during brainstorming. She’s a good listener and has a lot of ideas. Her literary references happen to be very useful if we are to use symbolism in the colors we choose" the PR manager complimented, sure of herself, sure of her choice of words.

“Oh I can see that” Lady Danbury conceded, leaving Penelope rather unsettled. Actually she froze into place because there were too many undertones within this comment and the blonde was afraid of the bad ones. 

“She’s a great philomath may I say, though she is still learning for the moment. She’s currently assisting me on Varenko's digital communication strategy.” Penelope justified. And it was true. Edwina brought a positive energy in her team.

“Perfect, that's exactly what we need in the agency" Ms Danbury eagerly approved. "You know, the Varenko isn’t any typical campaign we’ve worked on in the past and Charlotte sees this as the greatest opportunity in Ton&Co’s name. Imagine how renowned our agency will be once we’ll contribute to Varenko’s success... Obviously, she would have gladly to do it herself, but instead, she tasked her talented employees to do it, you in this case. Many people would kill for this extraordinary opportunity.”

“Cressida Cowper made it pretty clear, and in a quite biblical way” Penelope admitted. She reminisced about the terrifying episode where the tall big-headed blond stormed into her office to tell her that she'll have to protect her back now that she was on this case. God, how she despised her resentfulness .

“Miss Cowper’s eagerness is a quality, Miss Featherington. A quality we’re highly looking forward to in our employees" The vice-director firmly stated. "You know our slogan yourself, think better today—”

“...To act wisely tomorrow”. The PR manager macanically aswered. She learnt this by heart throughout her various projects she led in this competitive jungle. 

The middle aged-woman rested her elbows on the glass desk, next to her opened agenda full of sticky notes. She inclined her head to the side, attentively observing the young blonde as she softened her features. One of the many rare sides of Danbury. 

“Listen, I know how tired you must be today. A young woman like you should be aware of that. I suggest you take a few days to yourself once you wrap up your current project. You deserve a long break from work. Ton&Co can’t bring to see its Employee of the Year ” 

“I will”. Penelope promised, determined to bring changes to her life. She was aware that work problematically occupied a huge place in her life.

”Good. I’ll see you next week with Mr Weber and Charlotte then”. 

“Indeed. Thank you Ms Danbury” Penelope asserted with a smile. She stood up, ready to leave but the vice director’s unusual suggestion stopped her. 

“When Miss Sharma finishes reading her novel, ask her where the ducks go when the pond freezes over”. There were two things one has to know when Ms Danbury used sarcasm when she adressed herself to you. One, it showed that she's a witty woman. Two, it meant that you might be in trouble since she implicitly slipped in her sentence, a problem needing to be solved. Urgently. In this context, it was Edwina’s untoward habit of reading when she definitely wasn’t supposed to. 

“Oh! and Ms Featherington” Danbury lastly called her out, on her way to open the glass door. Her smirk never leaving her lips. “Happy Birthday” Penelope gave her a timid smile as an answer to before rapidly closing the door. but her mind didn’t register it. 

She briskly strode the alley and stopped in front of a young caramel skinned raven haired’s desk, whose attention was deeply focused on a paperback Little Brown edition of _The Catcher In the Rye_. She easily recognized it because Eloise bought her the same copy during their school trip from a local library at Bath in year 11 for her 16th birthday. 

“Edwina Sharma, what did I tell you about reading in the office ?” Penelope asked severely, crossing her arms.

“Oh hello Penelope, it’s just—I’ve granted myself a little coffee break” The girl explained, dropping clumsily her book on her keyboard. Penelope eyed the cup.

“Right, well, I see that you didn’t touch your cappuccino”. No sound came out from her sealed mouth. She was exposed.

"Do you seriously want me to tell Mary you're being unprofessional ?"

The intern shrugged “That’s okay she won’t mind".

“or Kate—” she tempted.

“No !” she accidentally screamed causing Mal, Winnie and Lucas to turn their heads in their direction. Penelope grinned. She had touched a sensitive nerve apparently. Aware of her inappropriate tone, the intern lowered her voice this time and confessed “Please, you know how much Kate cares about this internship more than I do. She's done a lot of sacrifices and I don't want to disappoint her, not when I’m blessed to have all the right cards in my hand”. It was true, Kate Sharma personally solicited Penelope’s help when Edwina’s research for an internship appeared to lead to nowhere. And she worked hard to help her younger sister succeed. Very hard. The PR manager sighed. 

“Listen Edwina, you’re under my responsibility. If you keep distracting yourself from your task, this could well damage my reputation in the company. Danbury noticed it, as of this very morning. So we’re both in the same boat you and me and it’s either a sink or swim”. The intern pouted, putting the orange cover book in the first drawer of her desk, visibly guilty of her distraction. Deep down Penelope knew the girl didn't do anything wrong. She merely slaked her thirst for fiction. Should she really blame her ?

“Look, I know Holden can hold your attention more than mine, I’ve been there, but right now you have an excel sheet to complete. Then, you’ll be free to finally discover what happened in that hotel room okay ?". The twenty year old’s brown eyes brightened. Suspense looked good on her. One thing was sure, Edwina won't get over thirteen's chapter, one of Penelope's favorite. There just was a lot to unpack in this one. 

“Yup, consider it done”. Edwina winked as she sipped her cold cappucino.

“Okay so you’ll need to make a powerpoint afterwards and organize the visual pieces of information you’ve gathered. I’m about to book the conference room on Monday morning at 10:30AM so we can break down everything” Penelope informed her. She must consider the intense athmosphere of the agency if this really was the job she wanted to do.

“Cool cool cool” the intern hummed.

“Thanks Edwina” She nodded and went back to her office. Penelope sat in her desk chair and discovered what each of those six bags hid. They were gifts sent from former companies and start-ups she helped to develop their brand image through social medias. Perfums, lingerie, books and an exquisite bottle of Hasting's wine sent by Simon and Daphne Basset themselves. She’ll get the chance to thank them tomorrow at Aubrey Hall. And why not chat with them a bit about the current their communication strategy of the company.

Penelope craved for a glass right now but she resisted. Perhaps she’ll treat herself well tonight in front of a good movie. After all, she deserved it. Right when she was about to open her Trello to check what she had to do today, she received a notification from her mother. It was a video sent via Whatsapp where her mom and Andrew, sitting on their colorful towel under a orange and white parasol, wishing her a happy birthday and to make sure she check her letterbox today. She knew what to expect : a check. Penelope exhaled and locked her phone.

Now was the time to focus on her benchmarking and the scheduling of her agenda for next week. 

* * *

**WHEN SHE FINALLY PUSHED** the door of 47 Hyde Park Street’s bricked building very late this evening—because of the usual trailback on a Friday evening—Penelope opened her letterbox to find, without the shadow of a surprise, a rectangular envelope with her name on it. She slowly opened it to find its content without really noticing the sound of the front door opening. 1000 pounds, that was the value of the check. She heard small steps behind her and raised her head to see who it was in order to say hello. Her eyes met Old Molly’s, the seventy something year-old retired lady who lived on the right appartement of the fifth floor.

She waved and smiled. “Good evening Penelope”.

“Hey Molly, how are you ?” The blond asked politely as she quickly put the check back in the envelope then in her mustard handbag.

“Yes, despite the heat, I’ve never experienced such weather ever since the summer of 66”. The granny declared, astonished. 

“Don’t forget to hydrate yourself, Molly. Anyway, no problem with your wifi router I hope” The blond insured. Sometimes, Molly would call Penelope to help her out with her wifi and tv when they wouldn't work and, once fixed, drink tea together.

“No, not this time Penelope, a technician finally came on Wednesday to fix it. You know, with this digital age, I'm out of my depth” she suddenly stopped and took in Penelope’s numerous bags— “oh I see you’re all weighed down, for what occasion ?” Old Molly asked as they both walked in the hallway, heading to the elevator.

“It’s actually my birthday today… and I guess some people from work remembered it” Penelope shyly confessed. She wasn’t used to this amount of attention but it warmed her heart. Her fingers found the button and pressed it. 

There wasn’t much to be said during those twenty seconds between the four walls of this glass/metallic box apart from Molly’s happiness getting to watch _Agatha Christie's Marple_ on ITV. As usual, the elevator always stopped at the fifth floor which tended to irritate Penelope, so much she thought about getting in contact with the architect who designed the building... Maybe he was dead by now. indeed the building had to be built back in the late 40’s at the very least. Penelope especially hated it when she carried a lot of heavy bags like today for instance. In the end, she didn’t have other options but to climb up the few stairs left to reach the sixth floor.

She pushed the door and held it while Old Molly got out. She glanced at the metallic door on her right, protecting the uninhabited flat, the one just under hers. It had been more than five years since she lived here and no one dares to inhabit it. 

“Really this apartment won’t find a tenant, will it ?” Penelope commented with amusement.

“It isn’t much of a problem for me. I cursed the former couple who lived there, mainly because they wouldn’t let me sleep some nights because of their… wild lovemaking” She declared on the defensive, making Penelope blushe. Her activities with Aaron weren't as loud as this supposed couple, but quite noisy still. She secretly thanked the lord for living in the opposite flat, a floor above her. Old Molly was definitely the type of granny who hated to be bothered by the people living above, in front, below her. And if you dared, she would knocked at your door in the middle of the night with a loaded gun.

"If someone is to move in, it better be a kind single youngster" the old woman suggested.

"Let the future tell us" Penelope concluded before wishing Molly a goodnight.

When the blond arrived at her final destination, a young dark haired man wearing a pair of jeans, a white shirt and what seemed to be a very expensive Gucci black leather jacket was waiting. He put his left arm on the dark yellow wall next to her doorway, somehow giving him a sexy pose she assumed. 

Aaron Boltski. Hudjo’s CEO. 

“Well hello _you_ ” he purred, dropping his voice an octave lower to maximise his attractiveness. 

“Aaron, what are you doing here ?” Penelope nonchalantly asked as she bypassed him and stepped in front of her burgundy varnished door. It was a rhetorical question anyway. From the way he stood and the way he was looking at her, she didn’t have to be a mind reader to easily guess the reasons for his presence tonight. Though right now, all she wanted was laying down on her bed, order a truffled pastas and hit the sack. This week had been awfully stressful. But she changed her mind the moment he straightened his back from the wall and placed himself right behind her, his hands to touching carefully her bare arms. 

“Surprising you… on your birthday” he innocently replied, bringing them higher on her sore shoulders, tracing the muscles of her neck, tight from the exhausting posture she took over the years. Penelope bit her lip as a wave of goosebumps invaded her. He was doing his only best : tempting her, a delicious provocation which made her right hand shake, causing her to miss the key’s entrance to open the door. 

“Well, I’m glad you finally managed to understand the boundaries between work and personal life. Should I reward you with a medal for not coming to the office this time ?” Penelope playfully asked under her breath. 

“I can think of other ways” Aaron simpered, ready to push her blond hair to the side to drop a kiss on the back of her neck but at the last minute, Penelope entered her apartment, preventing him the chance to poursuit his seductive ministrations. 

“Oh how I’ve missed this place” he happily said, a devious grin forming on his lips. He came here often, just like her in his duplex at Camden. Aaron was a former client from Ton&Co. Him and his father came last year because they struggled to polish their watch’s image to the mainstream public. Since then, she and Aaron became good acquaintances. That was until he invited her for a drink at Tonelli and ended up tearing down each other’s clothes in her apartment. And they did this regularly. It suited them just fine. 

He made himself comfortable on her couch, keeping this very curious look on his face. She didn’t really give much attention to his hand briefly feeling his right pocket as fell down next to him, worn out and pensive.

“I see you’ve been spoiled today” he noticed, looking at the bags next to the coffee table while he opened the bottle of wine Simon and Daphne offered her and poured her a glass. 

“Yes, it’s nice” Penelope muttered, savoring the delicious drink. A few minutes passed. 

“It’s nice but I don’t feel like I need any presents right now—I want—” Penelope admitted, unsure of how to finish her sentence. She couldn’t find the right words to express her thoughts. It might be due to the effect of the Hasting wine on her body after two full glasses. The only right word left was more. Yes, Penelope wanted more, of people, of life. 

“Well I thought that…” he started as he settled his hand on his crotch “ _this_ could be your present”, to which the blond answered him with a lift of her left eyebrow and a look that said “are you fucking serious”. Aaron didn’t need to verbalise it, his dark hazel eyes gave her the silent rhetorical answer she expected. _Yes_. His body grew closer to hers. 

“Oh come on, you don’t want to open it, you know it’s all yours” he whispered seductively, slowly leaning in to press his lips to her neck and nibble the soft skin. Penelope sighed despite herself, enjoying the feeling while she meditated on the matter for a few seconds, resisting the urge to grab him by his white shirt and kiss him passionately. While sleeping with him tonight wasn’t part of her birthday plans at all—she thought about rewatching _When Harry met Sally_ for the 7th time with a good veggie pizza from Tonelli on her bed—she allowed herself to have sex right now… Mostly because she was fucking stressed. On her birthday, as stupid as this sounded. Penelope was looking for a way to relax and sex happened to be one of the most efficient ways, particularly when was in the mood for it and Aaron knew how to temporarily relieve from this pressure.

When his teeth found her sensitive spot on her jugular, something snapped.

Why resist tonight ? 

After all, this special day was hers to enjoy and this intimate moment specifically to try to forget everything. To forget that familiar intoxicating peppermint cologne, those melodious guttural moans that perfectly rhythmed hers—honey to her ears, those expert hands and those beautiful eyes, glinting in the darkness, loving her fervently. So she let his mouth wander further down her neck. His hands got greedy, cupping her breasts, her hips, her bottom, taking her out of the prison of her thoughts to a place more clement, more comforting place. Her pleasure. Penelope laid down on her couch to give him better access before grabbing his face between her hands, kissing him passionately. She ceased to listen to that inner voice telling her to resist and answered her call, letting Desire cradle her tenderly in its strong arms until she fell into an incomparable state of relaxation. And when she ultimately felt enough power to squeeze them back, her body craved for release. And then, it finally did it. It screamed. 

Tonight, Penelope just turned twenty-eight and she never felt so alive. 

* * *

**IT DIDN'T TAKE MANY HOURS** for the Featherington to wake up this Saturday morning, all early bird she was. She removed the arm wrapped around her waist and left her king sized bed where Aaron still laid naked and asleep, surely tired of the exceptional performance he did last night. There were no reasons to lie, he fucked her good last night. So good that it had to be one of the best sex she ever had so far. Penelope was glad to have Aaron in her life, if not for the emotional part for the intimate part. He didn’t bring up his fuckwittery about wanting her to move in with him at Camden which somehow relieved her. It seemed like the young CEO understood what the concept of acquaintances with benefits meant. 

She adjusted the strap of her tank top and her laced panties and went to the bathroom. She picked up the different articles of clothing from the laminate floor she removed in a haste yesterday, tossing them in her dirty laundry basket and proceeded to take a refreshing cold shower. 

On reflection, Penelope thought she wouldn’t need to dry her hair with this blazing heat which already dominated the atmosphere. It was almost too summery to her taste. Thank God she’ll be able to swim and sun bath at Aubrey Hall in a few hours. And why not try the new jacuzzi Eloise talked about as well. She awfully needed and earned this break out of London.

She wrapped a towel around her body and exited the room. She opened her wardrobe and started to pick her outfits for her sojourn at Aubrey Hall. Penelope didn’t want to bring her whole wardrobe whole. So she settled for a large light brown weekender bag and put in it the bare minimum : a nice jean shorts with a oversized purple shirt, her salmon pink two piece swimsuit, her pyjamas, a pair of heeled sandals, a yellow cardigan and obviously her black notebook. One could always be struck with an expected thought right ? 

As she went to grab her pills on her nightstand, the blond almost slipped on Aaron’s leather jacket near the bed’s leg, feeling something hard under her foot. In the beginning, Penelope thought it might be his keys or his lighter but it was too squarish and large. This something came out slightly from his pocket. Penelope kneeled to grab it realized it was a small velvet black box.

Oh no, it wasn't, it couldn't be—

Penelope opened it to find with horror a twenty carats ring.  
  
Aaron was going to propose !

Indeed, they hung out couple of times together, but the only language they had seemed to master was sex. Nothing less nothing more. They always ended up getting bored to death when they tried to talked about their personal life anyway. Aaron’s conception of love was corrupted by his passions, he had to be messing with her. 

Penelope always conceived that the greatest foundation of marriage was emotional intimacy. Sadly this was something she didn’t share with this man. But did this mean things could work if she gave herself a bit of time ? We’re they able to be... more ?

She threw a quick look to the young man, anxious that he might woke up at any minute. 

Penelope had to be stuck in one of her strange dreams where she’s standing in her wedding dress with a faceless man at her arm. She pinched her forearm. No she wasn’t.

She put back the velvet ring box in his pocket and it on the bed. 

“Aaron” she woke him up. “Aaron” he moved just a bit. 

“So needy, already ready for round three ?” he smiled cheekily, his eyes still closed and side profile buried in her down pillow. Normally this comment would have made her chuckle or hell, even blush before throwing herself on him but she definitely wasn’t in the mood now. He needed to leave as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t have the chance to do any announcement. 

“Aaron, you have to leave, I received an urgent call from my sister, she’s here in ten minutes” she lied, for her sake, and his. 

“What, really ?” he yawned.

Penelope refused to play his game anymore. So she insisted, removing the blanket from him body. “Yes, so if you please can hurry ?”

He grunted and hastily dressed up like she demanded. She gave him his jacket and pushed him toward the door. 

“Damn Penelope why are you acting so weird lately ?” he angrily disputed, wanting nothing but answers. 

"I'll call you". She said sternly. She gave him a peck on his lips and closed the door at him. Stuck with her denial, Penelope refused to. 

So she quickly dressed up, putting a red wide leg cropped pants and a ivory geometric crop top. The blond hesitated to do a ponytail but decided in the end to let her hair down. She traced a thin line of eyeliner, applied a bit of mascara and pink lipstick since she couldn't seem to find her Yves Saint Laurent red one after months of desperate search. She then put her contact lenses, her small heeled sandals before she grabbing her car keys as well as her weekender bag and Guizmo. 

Penelope did what she did best. She fled.

* * *

**AUBREY HALL WAS THE BRIDGERTONS'** luxury country house located not too far from the capital and Oxford, in Henley-On-Thames. It merely took about one hour’s drive for one to arrive there. It was a breathtaking, almost oneiric, historical gateway to escape the madness of the city and of the mind which offered you an exquisite change of scene. If you were looking for a tête a tête with nature and romanticism, this place was definitely the perfect one for you. Late Edmund Bridgerton transformed Aubrey Hall into a successful bed and breakfast where families, young married couples or mere curious visitors could visit and attract people from all around the world. Penelope counted herself lucky to have the opportunity to go there once in a while, this weekend being the perfect timing. She remembered going there a couple of times with her mom, Prudence and Portia. Violet usually hosted cocktail parties with her friends. A pure delight though she and Eloise always ended up reading in the big library.

Penelope smiled at the thoughts of those childhood memory. Driving always made her meditate on things. Perhaps too much. Her thoughts always spiraled back to in extremis proposal. She thanked whatever radio channel broadcasted one of her favorite Todrick Hall's songs which made her feel like the baddest bitch around. Even Guizmo was into it, shaking all over the passenger seat.

When the London urban landscape progressively disappeared to let a beguiling endless succession of beautiful prairies, Penelope suddenly felt a soothing bowl of fresh air invading her soul. She took the A404 exit and traversed two pretty village on a large tarmacked road until it became a small wooded narrow one. 

She engaged the first gear when she spotted the sign with Aubrey Hall written on it and slowly drove past the entrance, already opened. Someone must have arrived before her, a delivery lorry maybe. She drove closer to the barn where she recognized Anthony’s SUV, Eloise’s Fiat 500, Simon’s Land Rover and—wait. Another car was parked next to Sophia’s grey Mercedes class A. A beige 1962 Ford Galaxie 500, belonging to none other than... than his !

Did he already come back from his Latin America tour ?

Penelope turned off the gas, her crystal blue eyes widened never leaving the shining collection car as she stopped her car. Colin must have taken it back from Jackson in London, a good friend and a garage mechanic who patched her Clio 4 a couple of times in the past. But how and when were the questions that haunted her right now.

For a few seconds, Penelope thought that the windows were still full of steam. She abruptly shook her head… It was just a mere illusion. It had to be. Thankfully.

Laughs could be heard from the distance. Staying in the car and texting Eloise that she’d arrived without saying hello to the family will be viewed as impolite. 

She opened the door and a very excited Guizmo briskly jumped out of the passenger seat, his tail moving everywhere. His barks alerted his presence and an adorable overweight corgi responded. She passed the little pond. where eight duckling swan peacefully swam behind their mother. Her sandals creaked under gravel. 

As she came closer to the mansion's principal entry, she heard laughs and voices, the sound of pure joy and happiness. 

Then she saw him. 

Six foot tall, his Ray Ban sunglasses tucked between his casual pastel blue two buttons down shirt revealing a bit of his sun-kissed torso, broad shoulders, glinting blue eyes, a stubble that made her knees weak, and a disheveled chestnut brown hair with curls delicately falling on his forehead she already knew were soft, from when she dragged her hand and pulled when he—

She stopped. Her heart pounded. This could not be happening, no. Not today, not right now. She succeeded in buring this memory hundred miles deep in her mind all the months he was away then why was it abruptly crawling back to the surface in a matter of seconds ?

Yes. It was him. 

Colin Bridgerton, in all his glory. 

He was there, standing in the corridor, warmly greeted by his mother Violet, and his younger brother and sister, Gregory and Hyacinth, drowning him with questions about the beauty he witnessed on the other side of the Atlantic. 

Then his gaze softly touched hers. His smile slightly faded away and something in his eyes changed, letting an odd expression drawing his face, an unreadable one. 

“Hello Pen” he softly whispered. This gentle voice, this nickname… Penelope repressed a shiver as those two mere words ignited her body all the way down to her toes. She shouldn’t feel this way and she knew this, no, not right now. So she awkwardly stood there, pinned in place, waiting for Eloise to come down from God knows where upstairs. 

Penelope deeply knew that she couldn’t stay here another second in the same room as him. But right now, she had to pretend as if nothing was wrong. Thus she smiled, keeping this mask as long as possible, especially with Violet, Gregory and Hyacinth coming to her. 

“Penelope, happy birthday!” Violet said, hugging her, visibly very happy of her presence today. Gregory and Hyacinth also demonstrated their joy, both of them standing next to her and holding her arm. "Where's Guizmo ? I want to see him" the fourteen-year-old impatiently asked with his breaking voice. "No I want to see him first" his younger sister argued.

"He's outside, playing with Newton by the lake—" She didn't get to finish her sentence that the teens were already running away from the house, leaving her alone with Violet and _him_.

“I’m so delighted you came to join us dear” the mother affectionately declared, breaking the awkward silence. 

“With Eloise’s insistence, I don’t think that saying no was an option. Thanks a million to you Violet I—” Her eyes caught his in the corner while he made a few steps towards her, slowly arriving closer to his mother. His mouth parted, ready to say something so she came up with the silliest excuse.

“I— uhm—Eloise told me you’ve planted new apple trees next to the pomegranate ones in the garden. I’d like to have a look if you don’t mind”.

“Not at all Penelope, I've even planted some red tulips a few meters away from the mimosa. Francesca's by the lake, she can show them you if you want” said the mother, quite unsettled by her sudden need to leave. 

And Penelope fled despite the burning feeling of Colin’s intent gaze on her back. 

This was going to be a long and painful weekend for sure. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well... It seems like Penelope and Colin have some _history_ together. What are your overall impressions, your expectations, your theories ? Don't be shy, do share them ! Your feedback and comments mean a lot to me and I love reading them :) Again, apologies for any typos/grammatical errors. 
> 
> We'll dive in Colin's pov next chapter! 
> 
> Until next time,  
> xoxo, bleulone


End file.
